Masters of Our Souls
by Willy Moe
Summary: The Mirror Universe, where the once tyrannical races of Terra and Vulcan now live enslaved. Yet even across the dimensions there are some things which must be... A/U. A story of the Enterprise crew in the Mirror universe, as never explained by the show.


**A/N: Okay, I haven't written any more of this story, but I wanted to know if there was interest. I am a busy person, but if you guys want me to continue I will make as much time as possible. Title may change, & apologies for my terrible French.**

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_Chapter One_

"Avez-vous qu'el-que chose a manger, monsieur? J'ai faim!"

Gul Kenrik muttered a soft string of profanities, calling down a curse on the prematurely balding head of his young Terran prisoner. He had no idea what the man was saying – Kenrik had no ear for languages, and obscure human languages were completely out of reach for his Cardassian-made universal translator. Reaching forward, he laid a resounding smack across the mouth of the prisoner laying slumped in the corner, who fixed his captor with a steely glare. The Terran was brave, Kenrik reflected, if stupid, and from his looks only between twenty and thirty Earth years - young.

"Keep quiet," the Gul muttered dangerously, just loud enough for the man to hear. "Or I'll get rid of that irritating tongue of yours for good."

"J'ai pas peur, con, de tes menaces."

Kenrik groaned, leaning his head back against the wall of the shuttle. "How long have we left?" he groaned, calling to his pilot.

"Four hours, Gul."

The Cardassian sighed heavily, wiping his eyes. If someone had told him a week ago that transporting one pitiful Terran rebel slave would be this much work, he would have laughed in their face. Now, after over twenty hours sharing a shuttle with this fool, he was seriously beginning to reconsider what he thought would have been an easy mission. The man hadn't spoken a word of Standard the whole time, sticking instead to that ridiculous and cacophonous language of his forefathers. Now he lay, silent and scowling, on the floor, blood trickling from his mouth and fire burning in his eyes.

The Terrans were a proud race, but foolish. For too long had their Empire enslaved those who fell beneath their sword, until they had capitulated, crumpled beneath the boots of Cardassia and Qo'Nos. Emperor Spock, the last in a line of greater leaders, had been too soft - he talked too much of reform and change and freedom for the planets. This galaxy had no place for the weak-hearted, and that was what Spock and this young man were: weak. Foolish ideals would get them nowhere in these times, for what power held meagre words against a sword? This boy could talk all he wanted – read all he wanted – and yet here he was, helpless, completely within his enemies' power. And those books which had so inflamed his speeches lying worthlessly in the hold, to be used as evidence against him.

Of his followers, none remained. All had been shot as he was forced to watch, screaming and cursing, apologising tearfully and calling down all their worst punishments on his own head if they would spare even one of those lives. By the time the mass execution was over, the slave had been so weak from shock and shame he had followed like a lamb when they led him to the transport shuttle, not offering a shred of protest. So quiet and submissive had he been that it had been decided that no binding was necessary, and the man had been dumped unceremoniously in the corner where he still lay. Nevertheless, the gul watched his prisoner closely, keeping his disruptor trained on him at all times.

Suddenly the prisoner let out a low moan of pain, and Kenrik looked up with a start to see the colour draining from his face. A moment later, the contents of the Terran's last meager meal lay in an unsavoury heap on the floor. With a grimace of disgust, the Cardassian removed his legs from the vicinity of the human, wrinkling his nose as the pungent smell began to seep through the small cockpit. Terrans were revolting, though the human's illness was not surprising considering the way he had been manhandled for the last few hours. When had he last eaten? The gul couldn't remember.

"Water…"

Kenrik looked up in surprise.

"I was beginning to wonder if you spoke Standard."

"Water."

Gul Kenrik may have disliked this Terran, but it was not his position to be the man's torturer. He was simply a guard in charge of ferrying him to those who held that authority, and was to keep this slave alive until the trial. The small replicator in the wall quickly produced a tall cup of water, which he handed to the prisoner, allowing his disruptor to fall limply at his side.

"Th-thank you…"

No sooner had he placed the cup in the Terran's grasp than the young man's eyes flashed, and he leapt forward, pounding the Cardassian's jaw with a heavy fist. Kenrik crumpled like a stone. The pilot in the seat swiveled round, weapon drawn, but the other was already on him. The last thing he saw in his life was the business end of his own weapon lighting up, then he fell, staring silently at the burning hole in his chest. Kenrik was dead a moment later, his smoking uniform bearing silent witness to his fate.

The proud Cardassians had not deigned to bind him - what harm could a mere reader of books cause? He was no warrior, just a slave, human filth grown too arrogant for his collar. A simple matter of feigning weakness, allowing them to drop their guard, and it was over in seconds. And they had called _him_ a fool. Nevertheless, he was sorry he had killed these two - everything he had ever taught to the followers of his ill-fated revolution had been against this behaviour. Wordlessly he cursed the necessity that had led him to commit such crimes. The young former slave threw away the disruptor, eyes brimming with remorse which was fast replaced by a look of hardened resentment and bitterness as the faces of one hundred and fifty followers, all dead by Cardassian and Klingon hands, flashed before his face. Jack...and Walter...and Beverly. Oh god, Beverly!

Steeling himself, he spun briskly on his heel and stalked to the pilot's seat. Seizing the controls with a steeled expression, he turned the craft around and sped off into the enveloping void of space.

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**Sorry that was short. I'm working on my chapter lengths. ConCrit appreciated!**


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